


My Hiddled London

by Musicpsycho



Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, thomas william hiddleston
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicpsycho/pseuds/Musicpsycho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie moves because she wishes to start a new life, and to pursue her dreams. After living in London for less than two weeks, she quite literally falls into the arms of her dream man; Tom Hiddleston.<br/>Will her inner fan girl tear her way out and scare him away? Will her relationship to him help her when she herself tries to get into acting, or does it simply complicate it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Human

London. The city I had always dreamt of, and already loved. Although I must admit, I also feared it. So much bigger than where I came from. So many more people, with so many nationalities and backgrounds. So many opportunities and dreams stretching out in front of me. And I couldn’t muster up the courage to try and seize those opportunities quite jet. But something I had decided to do was to join my one acquaintance from the city to a concert. Lauren had already bought tickets to see The Killers. At which venue, I wasn’t sure, but she said to send her cabbie friend over to pick me up at seven. Still in my pajamas after “tea and tumblr”-time, at six thirty, I rummaged through my limited wardrobe for something fitting the occasion. I ended up, not surprisingly, with my trustworthy skinny jeans, a plain, white t-shirt and a leather jacket, accompanied with a pair of outworn, black converse. Watching myself in the full-body mirror whilst refreshing my mascara, I realized how boring I looked. I reminded myself of my promise of changing, and in the last instant before I heard a car honk just outside, I put on some cherry red lipstick. Oh, how daring of me.

Lauren was late, as expected, and also dragging along quite a large group of friends. I was introduced but couldn’t possibly remember all eight names, and I wasn’t quite sure any paid enough attention to the newcomer to catch my name either. The party moved chatting towards the entrance of the concert arena, which was larger than any I’d ever been too before. Lauren handed me my ticket and winked at me as she ran ahead to fling herself on the back of some black haired guy. I awkwardly followed, trying to see if I could join any conversations, but no one encouraged me to say anything, so didn’t bother. Lauren had invited me to join her saying I should get to know some of her friends, but really, if Laurens friends were like Lauren, they weren’t really my kind of people. Once inside the venue I gradually lost sight of all Laurens friends, and eventually Lauren herself. I couldn’t quite convince myself that I did lose them on purpose, but let’s just say for now that I did. After stumbling around in the massive crowd of people, trying to spot the group that had gotten away from me, I headed towards the bar. If you’re alone at a concert, you have to drink. The support band, someone I hadn’t heard of, started playing as I reached the front of the line. I bought two beers, and got them in that kind of annoying plastic cups that makes you clumsy no matter how careful you are. Walking towards a spot at the back, but with better view of the stage, I thought of the last concert I went to. It was some mediocre band, and I went there with my mom. This was probably going to be even less fun, I thought. And then I slipped.  
  
I believe it was one of those damn plastic cups I stepped on, but what ever it was, it made my foot fly forwards, and me tip backwards. Clutching a beer in each hand, I tried desperately to not spill it all over myself as I fell in slow motion towards the floor. I would probably have landed on my tailbone, or worse, the back of my head, had it not been for the hands clasping my shoulders, so that I instead hit someone’s chest.  
I felt my unknown saviour lift me back up on my feet and, because the support band made unnecessary much noise, say in my ear ‘Alright, darling?’  
I think I knew who it was before I turned around, but got my confused suspicions confirmed as I met the slightly worried eyes of none other than Tom Hiddleston. His hair was dyed black, but the colour was fading a bit, and he wore tight black jeans and a plain shirt.  
Already quivering a bit because of the fall, I felt my legs threaten to give out under me as I mouthed a ‘thank you’.  My inner fan girl gasped for air and screamed improper things about perfection and sexual frustration as he smiled cordially down at me. I smiled back, but then I noticed that my white t-shirt was soaked in beer, and that my red bra shone like a pair of evil eyes through the fabric. I blushed and lowered my eyes, which only made me blush more when I realised I stood in a puddle of beer and broken plastic cups.  
  
The support band played their final chords before I managed to step out of the puddle and work my courage up enough to thank him again, and also apologize in case my beer soaked him as well.  
‘No need to apologize, since it was my imprudently placed beer that made you trip in the first place.’ Tom said, and I noticed his accent was even more enchanting in real life. I could have married his voice alone.  
He continued, ‘But don’t let me keep you from your friend.' He motioned to the two half empty cups I still clung to.  
‘Oh, no, I sort of got them both for myself. I’m here alone.’ I handed him the least empty beer, persuading him to accept by telling him it would make me feel less guilty for spilling his ridiculously overpriced drink. He took a sip, glancing around himself before telling me he was a by himself too.  
‘From the look on your face earlier I believe you know, but’, he held out his hand, ‘I’m Tom Hiddleston’.  
‘Yeah, well, uh, Annie Storm’, I stuttered as I shook his hand, thinking it’s funny how you never remember to be a normal person when you meet someone you’ve dreamt of meeting since forever. I just stood there looking at him, until I realized that was what I did, and my face flushed red again.  
‘I usually don’t blush this much, but I guess I wasn’t thinking it the slightest possibility to meet the definition of British gentleman after living here less than two weeks’ I told him, honestly. Tom looked a bit surprised for an instant, and then he laughed heartily in his well-known, sort of backward laugh. My fan girl senses tingled jet again.  
 ‘Well, I guess I had not anticipated to have a Norwegian goddess fall into my arms today, either.’ It was my turn to look shocked. And I did so for quite a while until I scrambled my thoughts and feelings back into my body. As I started to ask him how he could possibly know I’m Norwegian, The Killers entered the stage with the song “Human” and the music drowned the end of my question.  
Tom bent down so I could hear him saying ‘I’ll tell you afterwards’, and smiled a sly smile. ‘I’m dancer – how about you?’* he winked at me, before he seized my hand and dragged me in to the jumping crowd. I laughed manically, not believing my own skin that told me the man of my dreams warm hand held mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reference to the song "Human" by The Killers, and the lyrics "Are we human, or are we dancer?"
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed, as I no longer am satisfied with only getting feedback from my teachers. Please correct me if I have any grammar mistakes, I'm still working on perfectioning my English!
> 
> Thanks for reading, it means a lot to me.


	2. Loke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie gets a ride home with Tom and his private chaffeur, and he explains how he knew her nationality.

An hour and a half later, I was tired and sweaty, and my ears were ringing, but Tom was still by my side. He sure was “dancer”*, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out I were too. It had been a great concert with a great band, and my expectations to how the evening would turn out were sort of totally blown away. The whole concert Tom had been the one I’d excitedly shouted song-lyrics at, and he’d shouted back, and it felt just like hanging out with a friend on a concert with a band you both really like. It’s that feeling of belonging you always get when you’re squished against strangers sweaty bodies, and you know that there’s a big chance the only thing you and those strangers have in common is that you all like the band on the stage. I was in a dreamlike state of joy and adrenaline as the mass of people who had just minutes ago been an entity, now competed about getting out as fast as possible. Snapping back to myself, I realized Tom had been talking. Thankfully it seemed he’d only rambled about how great the concert was, and I avoided to make it awkward by nodding and smiling.  
‘So, how are you getting home?’ Asked Tom. I shrugged, not keen about thinking of parting ways with my concert buddy.  
‘Hailing a cab, I guess.’ He nodded, and as soon as we got out of the worst flock of people, he motioned me to follow him. 

We wound our way to the backside of the arena, where Tom got his phone out and asked someone to pick him and a friend up. I believe the only thing keeping my inner fan girl from passing out at that moment was that my body still surged with post-concert adrenaline. Tom must have misinterpreted my suppressed excitement as confusion, which actually wasn’t that big a misinterpretation.  
‘You want to know how I knew you’re Norwegian’, he said. With his lovely green eyes fixed on my face, I swallowed my fangasm and nodded.  
‘I thought I’d see you safely home and explain on the way.’ A big black car with sooty windows pulled up beside us, and Tom, chivalrous as a prince, opened the door for me before climbing in himself. The driver greeted him warmly, and on Tom’s solicitation asked me my address. Tom re-established the eye contact and continued.  
‘Reason one - your gorgeous hair’. He looked to my naturally blonde hair, which made me happy, because the one thing I didn’t end up hating about myself after puberty was my hair.  
‘Reason two – your accent. It’s close enough to British and so fluent that I know you’re well educated, but with that hint of Scandinavian.’ I laughed as I realized how obvious it all was. Tom smiled, and kept on.  
‘And the thing that really made me see it…’ He fumbled with his hand in his pocket, before bringing forth a tiny piece of wrinkled paper. Unfolding it, I recognized, with terror, my own doodling.  
‘This drawing says Loke, not Loki.’ He held it out so I could see the amateur drawing of Tom as Loki, with the horned helmet on. When I embarrassed and dumbfounded reached for it, he snatched it back.  
‘I’m keeping that.’ He laughed and put it back in his pocket, obviously pleased with my reaction. I felt really stupid, but did not know what to say.  
Eventually, I muttered, ‘No one is ever going to believe me if I try and tell them about this.’  
‘And no one is ever going to believe I met a Norwegian goddess!’ Tom laughed, and fished his phone out of his pocket.  
‘That is, unless I document it. May I?’ He held up his phone in front of us and motioned me to move closer to him. My heart raced as he put his arm around me and told me to smile. After a few shots, he seemed satisfied and looked at me, his arm still resting on my shoulder.  
‘So, should I just send these to you, or do you want to take some of your own?’ I stumbled around in my mind trying to make sense of this. He’d been the one to take pictures, and now he wanted to send them to me? Was this his usual fan treatment, turning everything up side down?  
‘I’m, uh, I don’t have a phone at the moment.’ I said, cursing myself for postponing getting my phone fixed. I made a mental note to go to service with my phone the next day, but anyway it would be too late by then. I told myself to forget it, and simply enjoy the few minutes of my life where a man of such high calibre sat with his arm around me.

Either my imagination was trying to please me, or a flicker of disappointment crossed Tom’s face as the driver announced that we had arrived at my apartment. Tom got out of the car and helped me out, yet again proving to be the perfect gentleman.  
‘Thank you for keeping me company tonight, and thanks for following me home’, I said, although my perverted brain told me to do the Hollywood movie-trick and ask him to come inside.  
‘It was my genuine pleasure’ he answered, his voice smooth and so damn sexy. I bit my lip to prevent myself from blundering out any of my improper thoughts, but let myself take the part of the fan girl I after all was, while I still had the chance.  
‘May I have a hug?’ I asked, awkwardly. He didn’t answer, but simply smiled and bent down, and held my body against his in such an embrace I would have killed for any other day. I swear it was the best hug I’d ever had, and I felt like I was going to faint when he let go. I felt my heart go with him, when he said goodbye and got back in the car, his eyes fixed on mine. I waved with a grin taped to my face until the car got out of sight, and then I ran inside, slammed the door shut, and sank to the floor in a terrible attack of the inner fan girl, finally overpowering me completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Reference to the song "Human" by The Killers, and the lyrics "Are we human, or are we dancer?"
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed, as I no longer am satisfied with only getting feedback from my teachers. Please correct me if I have any grammar mistakes, I'm still working on perfectioning my English!
> 
> These first chapters are very short, and I'm sorry for that, but the next chapters are a bit longer. Feedback on what you think of chapter length would be great. Thanks!


	3. Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie gets a letter and as a result has to deal with fangirl feelings and panicky thoughts concerning dress shopping.

The week after the concert went slowly. Lauren eventually contacted me and asked if I was all right, and when I had left her group of friends. I got away with telling her I met a guy I sort of knew. It wasn’t too much of a lie. I felt like I knew Tom better than her, anyway, but I guess being on first name basis with celebrities gets normal when you frequent tumblr.

Friday night, I came home late, exhausted from a day of painting walls and secondhand-furniture, running around delivering job applications, and two hours of kickboxing-practice. I emptied my mailbox and dragged myself up the stairs to my second story apartment. My apartment consisted of a large kitchen/living room, a bathroom and a bedroom. It was a bit old, but perfectly functional, and I loved my bedroom because of the large window on one wall. The windowsill, furnished with pillows and blankets, was my favorite place in the apartment. It was located, with three others apartments, above an old café, which was annoying because of the noise, but practical because it had free Wi-Fi that I could use constantly. I locked myself in and went in the shower.

After rubbing away every trace of paint and sweat, I went to the kitchen and made a cup of tea, and sorted my mail. Most of it would go right in the trash - advertisements and brochures – but there were of course some bills in there too. The last item in the heap of papers was a convolute with my name and address neatly penned in black ink. As I opened it, my mind raced through the small list of people who knew my location, until the photo Tom had taken of him and me fell out. Shocked and happy and fangirling at the same time, I picked a letter out of the envelope. I shrieked a sound of pure excitement before I calmed enough to read it.

 _Dear Annie,_  
  
 _Sometimes one has to use the old fashioned methods to contact one another, although it can be a bit impractical. Personally I think letters are a bit more charming and romantic than the modern ways of communicating. I hope though, that it was delivered on time._  
 _I caught myself wishing that you would want the pictures, so I figured I’d send them to you. I also caught myself thinking of you quite a bit the past days. Do you believe it is possible to fall in love with the idea of a person, or does that sound weird to you?  
_ _Anyway, I wish to find out if the person is anything like the idea, and I must admit my hopes are high. If you’re free Saturday evening, I invite you to come see “A Midsummer Nights Dream” at the London Coliseum with me. And if not for me, then for the sake of Shakespeare? I’ve heard there are quite a few good actors in the play._

_Love, Tom Hiddleston_   
_PS. I’ve asked Leonard (the driver from last week) to pick you up at seven._

I’m not sure when I started to cry, but at some point I did. And when I’d read the letter three or four times I sort of ran around the house screaming for a while. Manically. Like a total lunatic. Then I ran to my computer and logged on tumblr, needing desperately to talk to someone about it, but I realized that of course no one was going to believe me, and if they did, it would cause a riot. I changed between screaming at myself and laughing hysterically until I realized my tea had gotten cold, and my stomach was growling for food.  
As I dashed together a dish of whatever leftovers I could find, I calmed down enough to think through the situation properly. Tom Hiddleston, the actual, properly real Tom Hiddleston, had basically asked me on a date? I pondered over how insane and unlikely that was, until I noticed my food was burned black. Whatever. I sat down and ate it, trying not to freak myself out with thinking of what to wear the next evening. Tom would probably wear a suit. I hoped he would choose a bow tie to go with it. But then I did freak out because I realized I’d brought no dresses or high heels with me to London, and that meant I’d have to go shopping although I didn’t really have the time or money for it. I left the dishes and stumbled to bed, just to lie and stare at the ceiling, my thoughts racing and dancing and dying for some hours, until my brain was too tired to panic any longer.

I woke to my alarm at 8 am and slapped the snooze button automatically. Then my brain started functioning again, and I jolted awake. I had so much to do, not even mentioning trying to find something nice to wear. It wasn’t like I didn’t like wearing dresses, but I just found it really hard to find anything that I really liked that also looked ok on. I ate a banana and went out to run. Even though I hated running, it was the best way for me to sort through my thoughts. Also, I would need the feeling of being fit if I was going to have any self-confidence what so ever later that evening. Careful not to press too hard, lest I’d tire my legs completely, I still ran until my head started spinning. I went home, I ate breakfast, got dressed, and started of with the day’s first task; getting my phone. I’d delivered it for repair four days ago, and apparently they’d fixed it already. Even better, the store was only a five-minute walk from my apartment. With the reassuring weight of my phone in my pocket, I raced to the tube to get to the job interview of the day. It was at an old but quite large bookstore. To my surprise I was a bit early and the shop was empty. I went around looking for some of my favourite books that I hadn’t been able to bring with me when I moved, but soon my mind wandered to panicky thoughts about dress shopping.

As I felt a tap on my shoulder I jolted out of my inner ramblings and greeted the old lady that introduced herself as Sue. I followed her to the other side of the store. She turned and smiled a very typical nice-old-lady-smile.  
‘So, do you want to start work today, or wait until over the weekend so I can plot out your time table?’ She said, looking at me. Confusion seized my me as I answered.  
‘I… Uh… Are you telling me I’ve got the job already?’  
‘Well yes. Unless you have lied about anything in your job application, you seem fit for the job. I am aiming for an international staff.’ She patted me on the arm and walked behind the counter, fumbling with some papers. I exhaled in relief, and thanked her graciously.  
‘I’m not sure I have much time to work today, though,’ I told her. ‘I have some things I need to fix before going out this evening.’ I said, a bit hesitant, starting to feel panicky again. Sue looked at me and smiled knowingly.  
‘Yes, I am not surprised such an attractive girl as you has caught the eye of some local boy already. Is he a gentleman?’  
‘I don’t think there is possible to be more gentlemanly than him, actually.’ I laughed, thinking about how ridiculously well things seemed to fall into place for me. No problems with my apartment and a job with a pleasant boss, and most amazingly I actually had a date with the one and only Tom Hiddleston. It still felt like a hallucination, but Sue’s voice brought me back again.  
‘Oh, he is taking you to the theatre then?’ How she could possibly know I have no idea.  
‘Yes, and I didn’t bring any dresses when I moved here.’ The panic really bubbled my brain, and I was about to excuse myself and run to the first and best dress shop when Sue voiced an idea.  
‘Now, you take a look around and get to know the store better. I will go upstairs and fetch a little something for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for hanging in there! Not entirely happy with this chapter, but I've been told the secret to writing is to go on even though you're not satisfyed. I'll just have to go back and edit stuff later, I suppose. Chapter four is just about finished and I'll reveal that I've named it "Sherlock"....
> 
> Grammar corrections, constructive criticism, suggestions, comments or the like is welcomed dearly. Again - thanks!


	4. Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie must avoid press when meeting up with Tom at the theatre, and has to keep fighting the fan girl when other celebrities shows up.

At precisely seven that evening I darted the fastest I could, with both heart and mind racing, down the stairs to find Leonard waiting outside. He nodded a greeting and courteously opened the car door for me. It felt weird, sitting in total silence in the back of such a big black car with even blacker windows. I constantly reminded myself to calm down, but I just could not stop wondering how Tom was dressed, and what he would think of my appearance. 

Sue had found one of her dresses from when she was young, and it was actually very nice. It was a classic cut, dark cherry red halter neck, which Sue said would make my shoulders look nice, and because it tightened at the ribs it still made my relatively small breasts look ok. I’d never ever worn a full-length dress before, but found I quite liked it, although it made me feel a bit clumsy. The high heels I’d torn with me on my way home were black and simple, but the perfect height: I estimated Tom would still be more than 10 centimetres taller than me. I liked that height difference very much, for different reasons. My opinion had always been that tall men looked the best, and Tom was certainly far from an exception to that. I startled as Leonards phone rang.  
‘Hi… Yes she is… Two minutes… The most discreet one? Yes, yes, it’ll do. Right… Ok.’ He hung up, and glanced at me in the rear view mirror.  
‘Tom says a lot of press has shown up, so I’ll drop you at the back. You’ll have to stay out of sight unless you want to get investigated as Tom’s love interest or something.’ Leonard suppressed a laugh as I blushed. 

It hadn’t crossed my mind that press might be at the theatre, and it felt weird and exciting as I was guided through several dark corridors. Leonard led me to a big hall filled with nicely dressed people.  
‘Just wait here, act normal and Tom will get to you eventually,’ Leonard said in a humorous tone, and smiled at me before he went, probably back through the hallway. I felt like a secret agent at first, but then just like a sick person in the doctor’s waiting room, because I grew so nervous I wanted to puke. Wondering how long I’d have to wait, and wondering what the hell I’d gotten myself into, I fumbled with my purse. Just like Tom had told Leonard, quite a lot of press was gathered outside what I now realized was the main entrance. I glanced at the people around me, and felt the grip at my purse tighten as I spotted Tom, standing in a group of people with reasonably familiar features that I couldn’t put a name to, but one among them I could name, was Benedict Cumberbatch. Struggling not to start running towards them asking for autographs and pictures, I took a deep breath and straightened myself up.  
‘Posture is important if you wish to look confident’, I told myself and put on a neutral face, trying to suppress both excitement and nerves. I tried not to, but when Tom finally noticed me, a giant smile spread across my face. 

Tom excused himself from the conversation and approached me. He wore a black tailored suit, and I noticed the extra buttons most likely belonging to a vest underneath his jacket, which certainly made up for the missing bow tie. I toned down my smile a bit, and he put his hand out to shake mine.  
‘Wow, you look gorgeous,’ he paused and scanned me from head to heel before dropping my hand, ‘And I have to make things look formal and pretend this is not a date’, he smiled and set his green eyes on mine before nodding slightly in the direction of the photographers. My heart jumped at the word “date” – he really meant it as a date. I smiled and simply nodded back, seeing in my side vision someone moving towards us. Tom noticed too and started talking to me about something regarding the scenography in the last play he saw, and didn’t stop until Benedict Cumberbatch tapped his shoulder. They shortly discussed something about when the play was to start, before the attention turned to me. Benedict shook my hand as Tom introduced us.  
‘Annie, I’m sure you know Benedict. Ben, this is Annie, she’s-‘ Tom stopped when two other men approached us, and Tom shrugged slightly at Benedict, probably communicating that what he was about to say was far from the truth. He started over with the introducing, but I did not catch the men’s names because I wondered too much how Tom was going to explain me being there. The oldest looking guy eyed me sceptically when he shook my hand.  
‘Annie is considered for a role in a film I might do at a later time,’ Tom said simply. The old man nodded at that, a bit suspicious-looking, but said we’d best go and claim our seats. 

Tom took my arm and led me in to the theatre, followed by Benedict and the two men. It was a grand room with several balconies and a large stage. We found our seats, and I sat down a bit dazed, letting my ears enjoy the voices of the two Brits conversing. I could not wrap my mind around the absolutely unbelievable situation I was in at the moment. I couldn’t believe this was reality, and not just an exceptionally well-written fanfiction. Called back to reality by hearing my name mentioned, my eyes got caught in Tom’s.  
‘How well do you know the play? Do you know the storyline?’ Tom asked, smiling. I wondered if I should say I didn’t know it at all, only because I wanted to listen to his voice a bit more.  
‘I know it quite well, though I have only seen the play performed in Norwegian.’ I said, and noticed that both Benedict and the other men listened interested. To prevent the sceptical man from speaking, I quickly continued.  
‘I actually landed the role of Puck once.’ Tom’s arched eyebrows told me this was not what he had expected to hear, but a smile soon followed and he asked me when that was. The old men lost interest and started talking again, so I focused only on the gorgeous men by my side. Loki and Sherlock – what an audience.  
‘We set it up the second year of… Uh, I don’t know the British school system too well… I guess it’s similar to college?’ I stuttered before it was signalled that the play was going to start. Benedict smiled and sat back, and Tom turned to me, whispering.  
‘You make me curious, and I feel the need to investigate. Therefore I will have to take you to dinner afterwards.’ Before I got the chance to reply, he shushed me, winked, and turned to watch the play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year everybody! It's from here I'll get to write the really fun parts, I hope you want to read along. Please comment on what you like/dislike and what you want to know more about! I'll be rally busy with school stuff the next weeks, but I'll do my best to keep the chapters flowing.


	5. Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie and Tom tests eachothers sense of humor on their way to dinner.

A Midsummer Nights Dream was brilliant. The play is a comedy, and luckily it was quite funny, so I was blessed with getting to hear Tom’s laugh quite often. I’ll have to admit I very often turned to look at the beautiful face of my date, instead of the play, and sometimes I caught him looking at me too. Thinking of him as my date made the so-called butterflies in my stomach turn into grasshoppers, but I still enjoyed the play. We chatted with Benedict and a lot of others that wanted to talk to the handsome gentlemen. Some of them greeted me, others ignored me completely, and I didn’t mind either options. I concentrated hard on not seeming too star struck and even more on silencing the hungry growls of my stomach. I regretted that I didn’t force myself into eating something before the play, but I’d simply been too nervous. Now, though, I could’ve eaten a whole cow, or something that size. A hand on my shoulder, as scary and annoying as they always are, shifted my attention to Leonard standing behind me.   
‘Excuse yourself in a few minutes, you’ll have to take the back entrance again, I’m afraid.’ He whispered and sneaked off. I kept standing in the outskirts of a lively conversation for a few minutes, and then did my “avoiding awkward situations”-act. This is something I’m rather skilled at. I flipped up my phone pretending that someone called me, and after talking to myself for a few seconds I caught Tom’s eyes and mouthed a ‘see you soon’, before walking off at increasing speed, still pretending to talk to someone. At the other side of the hall Leonard waited for me, and started chatting idly, asking questions about the play as we once again made our way through the dark corridors.

Once we were back in the car, Leonard drove to the front of the theatre. After waiting a few minutes, Tom gracefully jumped in beside me and we were off.   
‘Annie, I’m so sorry that you had to go through all this trouble with sneaking around.’ He glanced at me as he fastened his seatbelt.  
‘Don’t be sorry, I enjoyed the sneaking.’ I laughed, and wondered whether or not I could voice the next line my brain thought up. Thinking I’d test Tom’s humour, and maybe tease him a little, I went for it.   
‘What you should feel sorry for though, are my fan girl feelings.’ Looking at him with a serious mine, I continued. ‘They really threatened to overpower me today.’   
Satisfied by Tom’s slightly puzzled expression, I struck my final point and sighed theatrically.  
‘I mean, seriously, Benedict Cumberbatch? What a perfect specimen of man!’ Putting my serious face back on, awaiting Tom’s reaction, I fumbled with straightening out my dress.  
‘Yes, he is quite exemplary, and known to make everyone around him seem like uncivilized rodents.’ It took me about two seconds from his last word until my act ended, and we both burst out laughing.   
‘This is insane, you know that?’ I told him. He nodded and moved his hand to the side, probably unconsciously, but as it brushed past mine we both tensed. He hesitated for a moment before he placed his hand halfway atop of mine. I felt the warmth tingle from his hand and through me.   
‘How would you like to eat Italian?’ he asked, and sort of repressed, looked at me. As a reaction on the mention of food, my stomach growled horrifyingly loudly. Red-faced and completely humiliated, I buried my face in my hands and half whispered, half laughed.  
‘Obviously I’d like that very much.’ I cursed my sometimes too fast metabolism, and tried to calm myself down enough to make my flushed cheeks a bit less red. When I lowered my hands from my face, Tom instantly took one in his. As if studying it, he traced my hand with his own slender one, before interlacing our fingers. He gave my hand a little squeeze. Looking up from my hand to my face, he said that I should have told him that I was hungry.  
‘We could have skipped most of the chit-chat after the play and went straight to the restaurant.’ He kept his hold on my hand as he bent forward to Leonard.   
‘Could you take the shortcut to the restaurant please?’ Leonard seemed to invent another gear as he sped onwards to parts of London I’d never been to before. Tom turned back to me and smiled.   
‘If it helps, you look quite endearing when you’re blushing. Might be why you caught my attention at the concert. Well, apart from the fact that you fell on me.’ He laughed with satisfaction as my face burned with more redness than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO FREAKING SORRY I'M A SHITTY PERSON! It's been almost one and a half year since this was updated, and I know I promised to post last summer but well, things happens. Now I have this very tiny chapter for you guys before I edit the two next! So this time I promise (and will keep it) to post at least two more chapters the next two weeks. If not you must all yell at me. But I will post, I promise.   
> Also thank you.


	6. Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During dinner Annie raises a question on why she's had to sneak around the whole evening, and the issue of age difference comes up for discussion.

Minutes later we pulled up in front of a cosy-looking Italian restaurant named “Il cucina piccola”*. Tom, gentlemanly as ever, helped me out of the car and took my arm as we went to get a table. The staff – actual Italians, judging by the looks, seemed to know him, and guided the two of us to a small table. Seated and with menu in hand, I noticed that this particular table was placed a bit out of view from the rest of the tables. That was the point when it struck me how unnecessary all the sneaking and secretive behaviour I’d been a part of this day really was. Sure, Tom Hiddleston is a known name in certain corners of tumblr and not unknown to the occasional comic nerd or marvel fan, but to drive around with a private chauffeur, sneak in back entrances and reserve specially secluded tables seemed a bit over board even for a semi-famous guy like Tom. I was tugged away from my train of thoughts when a waitress appeared at our table. Before my hearing tuned in, she went away again. Tom looked at me over the top of his menu.  
‘I ordered some water and a good wine, if that’s all right?’ He asked, and I nodded in return, and looked to the menu. Until now I’d been too thoughtful to realise it was in Italian. And Tom had ordered in Italian, hence the explaining of his conversation with the waiter. After deciding what to eat, (I do in fact know some Italian, and my vocabulary consists mostly of food words) I put my menu down and saw that Tom had done the same.  
‘Okay, I’m just going to ask right away. Why all the sneaking, really? It seems a bit unnecessary.’ I smiled apologetically – I really didn’t mean to be rude or anything, I was simply curious.  
‘Oh! I'm so sorry. I was going to tell you in the car earlier but then this whole Benedict Cumberbatch thing came up’, he laughed, before continuing. ‘The case is that, no it is definitely not necessary by means of avoiding press, as I might have led you to believe. It has to do with an ex-girlfriend of mine’. At this point he met my eyes carefully. I simply nodded.  
‘The short version is that Liz, uh, Elisabeth, became very ill shortly after our relationship ended, which she had a hard time accepting in the first place. She simply didn’t let the idea of our future together go, and well…’ Tom paused when the waiter reappeared with our drinks, and took our orders. We tasted the wine, which we both agreed was an excellent Sicilian red, before he went on.  
‘Without adding too many details, she’s become a stalker, following me around and appearing at film sets and outside my apartment a bit too often. That is the reason why my friend Leo’s been driving me around, so she cannot track my whereabouts that easily. Also, she wouldn’t take kindly to a woman she could perceive as a threat, and that’s why I had you take the back entrances today. I strongly suspect she knew I would be at the theatre this evening.’ I told him I understood, and that it was all right now that I knew, and he apologized again. Then I asked how long they had been together. I didn’t ask because it was important for me to know, it was still a matter of curiosity. Was he a man used to long-term relationships? My lengthiest relationship ended just before the six-months mark.  
‘We were together for almost one and a half years before I tried to ease out of the relationship, but as I told you she took it hard, and it didn’t officially end until a few months later. That was two years ago a few weeks back.’ Tom told me this with obvious regret. I could tell this woman troubled him, but our food came, and our attention shifted to the delicately prepared shellfish and scampi on our plates.

The food was brilliant and I soon forgot everything about the stalker-woman. We talked on length about the play, and Tom found his chance to drill me about my school play version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.  
‘I actually auditioned for Bottom, but got Puck instead. Well, one of three people sharing the role that is. We had the craziest concept with a mix of eighties fitness outfits and roller-skating suit-clad Pucks appearing everywhere with snarky remarks. It was a mess, really. There was even a boxing-match in the middle of the play, and the fairies riding in shopping carts. Oh god, I get embarrassed just thinking about it, and it’s what, three years ago?’ We laughed, and Tom told me about his equally horrifying debut in an alternative theatre group. As we started our desserts, I reluctantly told Tom about my plans upon my moving to London. I was going to audition for acting schools, hopefully get my education at one of the well-known ones (Tom went to RADA and recommended it wholeheartedly, for instance), and just hope for the best, really.  
‘So yeah, I want to act, but there’s always that uncertainty to it, right? You’ve landed safely at Marvel, though, but I guess it’s been a struggle to get there. I’m not quite sure if I’ll be able to go through with that, and that’s kind of scary. Betting everything on a horse that might be lame, or something.’ It was apparent that he understood, but I suddenly felt very young and inexperienced next to him.  
‘If I may ask, how old are you, Annie?’ He said this after a pause, and I could feel myself retracting to my tiny and uncertain self. Of course he wanted to know. Of course he’d been wondering all along if he was on a date with someone who hadn’t half the life experience he did. It is my belief that age is just a number, but that doesn’t apply to everyone. Maybe he wanted someone mature and ready to settle down? I certainly didn't fit that bill. And he would be right in assuming I had limited experience with the world. I cleared my voice a little, and stared at my empty plate.  
‘I just turned 20’. I noticed my voice shaking with a terrible sense of inadequateness. But Tom didn’t blink.  
‘Well, you see, I myself have just set foot into the thirties. And I have also very recently come into my career. That is kind of a late start, don’t you think? But you have just started on your pursuit of the same sort of career, and if your talent in acting matches your talent in charming men, I think you will reach your goals very quickly.’ Trying to save myself from a terrible blush I had to joke.  
‘So far it seems the only one I’ve won over with my charm is you, though.’ Thankful for his laugh coming that easily, I turned serious again. ‘But thank you. Really. I guess we’ll see how everything turns out eventually.’ He reached over the table and placed his hand over mine, which rested beside my wine glass, and told me he was sure everything would turn out in my favour. The smile that reached my lips at his words came from my heart. Right now, I couldn't do anything but believe him. My life had turned up side down the last few weeks, and after all, my mind was still unable to comprehend the current situation. But I still had to ask, just to be sure.  
'And you're not bothered by my age?' I glanced at his hand, the one placed on top of mine, as I said it. A feeling of shyness crept up on me.  
'I'm the one who will start losing hair before long, so if anybody should be concerned with age difference...' His voice trailed off, and I laughed, giving his hand a squeeze.  
'I might as well come out in the open with the fact that my family has a history for bad teeth.' I sighed, and added, 'Plus dementia.'  
'Great, then you'll forget I ever had hair!' Tom laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Il cucina piccola = The little kitchen. Entirely fictitious and might even be the wrong translation. Don't sue me, I only know how to order a pizza in italian. Well, not even that.
> 
> Anyway; as promised, here's another chapter. I really hope you like it and would still be truly thankful for any responses. And please do notfy me if you find any grammatical errors etc., I did my editing in a hurry. Thank you.


	7. Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say that Annie and Tom shares a bottle of wine. In Annies bedroom.

After deciding not to have dessert - Tom was on a special diet for his next role, and I told him we could pretend that my reason for cutting of calories was similar, I excused myself to the restroom. Upon noticing I had a mascara smear under my left eye I cursed loudly, and wiped frantically at my eye. Thinking about the course of the evening so far made me lightheaded, and I can swear on it not having anything to do with my alcohol consumption. It was simply the thought of Tom, his eyes and his laugh, the touch of his hand, that made me dizzy. I wanted to scream and giggle at the same time, excitement and nerves bubbling within.  
Tom stood at the entrance chatting with one of the restaurant employees when I returned. Walking up to them I caught the end of the conversation, translating it from Italian as best I could. The employee, probably the owner, handed Tom a bottle of the same red wine we had been drinking earlier, and told him something along the lines of "the wine is on the house as long as you promise to come again." This was of course followed by courteous attempts at declining, but to no avail.  
'Share it with the lovely one over here, hm?' the Italian said with quite a thick accent, and placed the wine bottle firmly in my hands as soon as I came within reach. We all laughed and thanked each other in both English and Italian before Tom and I left. An ordinary London cab waited outside, instead of Leonard and the black car.  
'I thought Leo could use the rest of the night off, and I also figured Elisabeth would have appeared by now if she knew we were here', Tom explained as he climbed into the cab besides me. The driver got in and wondered where we were headed. I wondered the same, and also felt like knowing if we were both going the same place. I would certainly not mind sharing that bottle of wine at once. And maybe Tom wanted the same thing, but I thought he might also be too much of a gentleman to voice it, so I decided to be bold and take the lead. I told the driver my address, and turned to find a smiling Tom.  
'I thought we might do as the Italian bade us, and consume that wine sooner rather than later. And I would strongly object to sharing such precious drops with more people than necessary, so...'  
'Stalker free environment. Yes, good thinking.' Tom finished.

  
The ride from the restaurant to my apartment was shorter than expected, and soon we both got out of the cab. Tom took the wine bottle as I rummaged my purse for my keys. In addition to freaking out because I had brought a guy home for the first time in a while, I was freaking because that guy was Tom Hiddleston (a fact I still had a hard time to believe, although I no longer had to stop myself from screaming every time I looked at him), and I also freaked because my apartment was looking rather shabby. Before opening the door I apologised for the mess, and thanked whatever there was to thank for the fact that I had at least remembered to put my dirty clothes somewhere else than in the middle of the unfurnished living room floor, since that was the room we entered first.  
'Now, do you want the apartment tour, which, spoiler alert, will take less than a minute, or do we go straight for the bedroom?' I said, with a raised eyebrow. Before Tom could make any kind of reaction I continued. 'And, because I do realize there really is only one way to interpret that sentence, I will add that the bedroom is the only place I have furniture that two people can sit on, apart from my ridiculously untidy kitchen.' Tom laughed as he shrugged off his jacket.  
'I don't think I would have minded either versions of that sentence, but I do need to use your restroom first, if that's alright.' I pointed at the right door, and silently thanked whatever there was to thank again, before kicking off my shoes and darting to my bedroom. I quickly made my bed, tucked away my laptop and some books and clothes that were strewn around the room and cursed the unassembled bookshelves and bedside table. Right before Tom walked in I had arranged my windowsill pillow-fort for two, and went to get glasses for the wine. When I returned with the glasses, Tom was studying my sparse vinyl collection.  
'Please, do put on something if there is anything you like.' I said, but saw he already had started to do so. The mellow notes of my Bon Iver record filled the air. Good choice, I thought – most of my other records would have been distracting, but this was a nice background track to such a movie-like situation. That his first choice was one of my favourites wasn’t a drawback either.

  
Tom seated himself next to me and poured wine into our glasses before saying anything. As he spoke, I let my eyes rest on his face. It was an open and honest one, and pretty in what might be regarded as a feminine way. Yet it was also a very, very handsome face, and I felt a longing for reaching out and touching it.  
‘Cheers to a nice evening.’ He smiled widely and we clinked our glasses. I sipped at my wine as he complemented my apartment.  
‘I see you have lots to do still, but it’s neat. And this window seat – it’s a treasure.’ He gazed out of the window, down at the lit up street with rows of cafés, shops, a pub and some tiny apartments like mine. It was a still night, just a few cars and people to see, and even the club at the far end of the street seemed to have quieted down already.  
‘This window was what made me fall for the apartment. I’ve always envisioned myself with a good book in my lap, and the view of a city with just as much excitement to offer as whatever world is hidden in the words I’m reading.’ I hiked my dress up above my knees so I could tuck my feet in under myself, and leaned my temple against the window, looking at Tom.  
‘But you didn’t envision yourself sat here with someone else?’ He sat relaxed with one foot halfway on the windowsill, playing with the wine glass in his hand, a tiny smile on his lips. I couldn’t help but think how stunningly good-looking he was. And how badly I wanted to lean against him, place my temple against his chest instead of the cold, hard window.  
‘Well, not initially. I like being alone. I like to read for hours on end without anyone disturbing me. But I also like sitting here with you. And I don’t think I would’ve been annoyed if you interrupted my reading.’ I said, and smiled foolishly. At this point I knew I’d had enough wine to make me a little tipsy. Hopefully Tom had had enough to at least make him a little brave – that’s at least how I get when I drink. I get braver, and with that much more confident and determined. Shifting my position, I no longer rested against the window, but turned more towards, and also closer to Tom.  
‘I’m not sure I would have interrupted you reading; I can imagine you look peaceful with your nose in a book. And peaceful faces are the most beautiful ones, which means you must be absolutely radiant, since you are already that beautiful.’ He said, slow and quietly, ending almost in a whisper. I was too flattered by his words to even feel embarrassed, or maybe it was the courage from the wine, but I merely smiled at him, and reached out for his hand. Slowly he shifted and leaned forward, his face only a centimetre from mine, his hand in mine.  
‘You know exactly what to say to a girl, Mr. Hiddleston.’ It came out as a whisper. He gave his head a little shake.  
‘No. I only know what I want to say to you.’ He said, no sign of uncertainty in his voice. I reached out then, like I longed to do earlier, and touched his face. I let my hand wander from his temple to his cheekbone, tracing a line from there and to the back of his neck. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of his breath, his face nearing mine. My fingers passed through the curls at the back of his head as his lips met mine. It was soft and careful at first, but I pulled him close, kissing him hard, passionately. Tom drew slightly back only to murmur in my ear.  
‘I lied earlier. I don’t only want to say things to you.’ He went on to kiss my neck.  
‘I also want to do things to you.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, who's been productive?  
> I even delivered you two new chapters faster than promised! This looks promising, huh? I'll try and get another one posted before I go on vacation, but won't promise anything. In the meantime, why don't you give me some feedback? I suspect I need it.  
> Also thank you so very much for reading this far, it really does mean a lot. x


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